


impossibilities

by thewolfsdoctor



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe, F/M, Magic, Romance, To Be Continued?, Witch AU, it's the old times, working on the title bc its ugly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 00:54:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14989229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewolfsdoctor/pseuds/thewolfsdoctor
Summary: John Smith returns to Leadworth after traveling the world, and then he chases after a fairy tale.





	impossibilities

**Author's Note:**

> for an anonymous ask on tumblr

Amy looked left and right, as if someone could be listening to their conversation. The nearly empty pub they were in suggested otherwise. “They say if you go deep enough in the forest, you’ll find a cottage there. And you know who lives in that cottage?”

“Who?” John asked, curious and a little bit terrified. And also, a little bit drunk. Amy was nearly falling off the stool. 

“A whole family…” she paused for dramatic effect, as Amy does with her storytelling, “of witches!”

Ha. Of course. “Impossible!”

“Why would it be impossible?”

“Because… because, I don’t know! It sounds like you’re lying to me.”

Amy told this story all the time when they were children. Once they tried to go into that part of the forest and came back minutes later because they heard an owl ominously hooting above them. It became a bit of tradition when they drank together to tell that story like an old wives’ tale.

“Have I ever lied to you?”

“Yes!”

She shrugged because she knew he was right, but did not let up her air of offense. “Well I’m not this time! My dad said, and he used to hunt witches.”

That part was true, at least. Harold Pond was a known witch hunter, now working under the king at their small village of Leadworth. 

“Why doesn’t he hunt them, then?”

“He said they made a deal with them. Years ago, the witches tried to burn down the whole village, but the villagers rose up and beat them all. And as he looked down at the last of their numbers he promised he would them live if they never to came into our village again. So we live in peace now.”

“That’s hard to believe.” Both the witch army part and the peace part. Fear and defeat did not sound like peace.

“I can prove it to you. We can go tomorrow.”

“What?”

“Come on, we won’t get too close!”

“But-”

“You know you want to. More than me, probably.”

John huffed. She was right.

* * *

John Smith was known for exploring. That’s why he left Leadworth all those years ago and came back with miles of stories. His aunt was not surprised that we was going to go exploring again.

He could follow through this time. He became braver after his travels, seen things his friends and family wouldn’t believe. He’s encountered witches before, the elderly ones that make medicine and heal the sick.

This wouldn’t be any different, he said to himself.

Amy looked a little braver, too, in the way she walked and talked. A bow and quiver slung over her back (”Just in case,” she said. “Wolves or some sort. I can get some practice.” He felt the anger heating in his stomach, but said nothing.)

Needless to say, they found the cottage. It looked old and abandoned, covered in overgrown vines and fauna.

Amy quickly lost interest, and they went back to Leadworth.

John didn’t tell Amy he was going into the forest again.

He stood in front of the wooden gate, which looked damp and rickety. Well, they (which, in his mind, included his aunt, the Ponds, and Miss Gertrude at the market) didn’t call him adventurous for nothing.

As soon as he laid a hand on the gate, his world melted around him. Suddenly the forest was sunny and bright, instead of gloomy and dreadful. Birds chirping replaced the owls howling. And goodness, it smelled like flowers and honey instead of a swamp. Though, he was quite unsure how the forest smelled like a swamp, the only swamp-like thing in it was the damp ground and frogs.

Before he knew it a woman appeared and shoved him hard to the ground. He really should pay more attention to his surroundings.

“What are you doing here?” she said. Worry and anger was written all over her face, which was objectively quite pretty, and really, John, should you be thinking about this right now? 

John held his hands up in defense. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude or trespass.”

The woman was already pulling him up. “Don’t do that, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“You shoved me!”

“You came to my house! How did you find it anyway?”

John pulled himself together as best he could, straightening his jacket and trousers. She’s quite pretty, he thought again, with her golden blonde hair and brown eyes as rich as earth. “You don’t look like a witch.”

She shoved him over again.

“I deserved that.”

“Yes, you did.” She helped him up again. “And you didn’t answer my question.”

John launched into a long-winded explanation about getting drunk with his friend and going off exploring like the self-proclaimed explorer he was. And he’s filled with curiosity, always, and he just had to see if it was all true. And the cottage  _looked_ abandoned and he  _had_  to see if a family of witches actually did live there.

“I had to see if it was real.”

“Do I look real to you?”

He could feel the warmth of her hand at the crook of his arm. Her deep red cloak brushing at the top of his boots. She smelled like oak and vanilla and it was heady enough to surround him in her scent. John couldn’t tell if this was a fever dream or a fairytale come to life.

“No,” he said softly, “I don’t think you can be real.”

It seemed that he couldn’t shut up around her, and maybe it was a witchy thing, but he kept speaking his mind. She flushed all the way down to her neck. 

Maybe she was just really that beautiful.

“Rose? Where are you, sweetheart?” another woman’s voice called. The woman next to him, Rose, turned around and he inhaled as if to break from a trance. She began pushing him toward the gate.

“You need to go.”

“Can I see you again?” John asked, because he couldn’t help it.

“You  _really_  need to leave,” Rose urged. She pushed the gate open behind him, and she looked at him sadly. Before he could say anything else, she leaned up to his ear and whispered something.

* * *

John woke up on the forest floor, mud soaking into his jacket, and only one word in his mind.

_Rose._


End file.
